Break in the line // Christmas Time

A break in the line.
Tell mum I’m fine,
One day I’ll be free.
Free from paying money to mend what she did to me,
But no,
No I won’t go,
I won’t be what you want me to be,
No I won’t drink the poison from this family tree,
Yes one day I’ll be free,
One day I’ll see what’s you and what’s me.
We’re incomplete. We’re unfinished business.
The four of us children.
Oh no, the six,
Left me outside half-broken but not to worry,
I found my fix,
It’s not the drug, the drink, that girl,
It’s the loving family I built to catch the plates that you’d hurl,
Don’t kiss me,
This time it’s on my terms,
Don’t miss me,
You left me with a head full of nightmares and a pocket full of worms,
Mummy, daddy, what really happened?
Why was every Christmas time always saddened?
Step-mum, step-down, step-wife,
You know he still loves her,
You never took control of your life,
You knew how broken we were,
Yet you still stare at us with eyes full of strife?
This family. This dynamic.
‘Throw those feelings in the attic’
Frightened to death, screaming, bad breath,
Friends couldn’t smell it so they called me dramatic,
Sat still, sat in fear, like a deer in the headlights, body all static, then boom.
I’d be free.
I could cope.
But nope.
There’s no hope in death, so I change myself for the better,
But if not for the better,
Then to find hope,
I hope.


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